


a guy like me should wear a warning

by lostandlonelybirds (RUNNFROMTHEAK)



Series: taste of a poison paradise [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Earth 3 (DC Comics), Talon (Comics)
Genre: (It's also a bit fluffy), (as part of the whole possessive thing), A bit of objectification, Anal Sex, And future, Angst and Humor, Barely-there virgin kink, Blood Kink, Blood Play, Bottom Jason Todd, Could be percieved as dubcon in some areas but I say it's consensual, Crime Syndicate (DC), Dark Dick Grayson, Deepthroating, Denied Praise Kink, Dick Grayson Gets Around, Dick Grayson is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Dick Grayson is a bit of a sociopath here, Dick is Talon and has no remorse what can I say, Dom Dick Grayson, Earth-3, Frottage, Glossed-over scarification, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jason Todd is a Batfamily Member, Jason Todd is a Virgin, Jason Todd is horny and a bit terrified, Kinks are like pokemon, Knifeplay, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Light Pet Play (basically just a nickname and a collar it ain't that deep), M/M, Murder Fantasies, Obedience, POV Dick Grayson, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Dick Grayson, Pseudo-Incest, Restraints, Seduction to the Dark Side, Smut with an Angsty Ending, Sub Jason Todd, Threats of Violence, Top Dick Grayson, Under-negotiated Kink, but only briefly, gotta catch 'em all, in the past, in training, scar kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25862920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RUNNFROMTHEAK/pseuds/lostandlonelybirds
Summary: “Puppy wants to play with owls, huh?”Jason swallows roughly at the proximity, but to his credit, he doesn’t back down.“Maybe, if they’re as pretty as you.”Dick licks his lips again, leaning in close enough to feel Jason’s breath on his cheek.“You’re cute. I just might keep you.”***Or...Dick Grayson is Thomas Wayne's right-hand sociopath and more than happy to break in the new recruit. Loyalty's bought after all, and Dick's an expert in bargaining. Jason Todd doesn’t know what he’s in for.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Thomas Wayne Jr. | Owlman, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Series: taste of a poison paradise [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899433
Comments: 19
Kudos: 193
Collections: JayDick Summer Exchange 2020





	a guy like me should wear a warning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cheesesan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesesan/gifts).



> Hey! I really hope you like your prompt fill! I had a lot of fun working out what kinks to do and what verse to do, so this is what's resulted from it. Bottom!Jason and Top!Dick is a thing I always am happy to read, so writing it was a blast!
> 
> Thank you for the beta from mx :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Jason Todd,” Thomas says, hand firm on the younger’s shoulder. “Meet Dick Grayson, my other son.”

Dick waves his hand at Jason half-heartedly, not bothering to look up as he sharpens a dagger.

“Bored of me already, Pops? I’m so _hurt_ , honestly.”

Dick doesn’t feel pain, but he’s good at pretending. He can out-fake margarine pretending to be butter (‘I-can’t-believe-he’s-a-sociopath!’ as Selina Kyle had charmingly put it, during one of her villain-stints when Thomas’s dick had compelled her more than half-assed loyalties to the Gotham Sirens). He has the whole kicked puppy look down from observation alone, and he’s always been good at controlling his body language. Jason, poor sucker that he is, looks nervous about it from the corner of Dick’s eye. It’s cute. Most people know not to show him their weaknesses, he latches on to them too easily.

The Crime Syndicate loves and hates him for it, because he’s more than willing to expose weakness for a price, and more than willing to back stab for a better price. Gotta love the power dynamics of regime organizations.

Thomas, being Owlman and all, just rolls his eyes looking bored.

“Richard—”

“Puh- _lease_ ,” he interjects. “Don’t set up your new puppy to call me that. Alfie’s bad enough.”

Alfred doesn’t respond to intimidation, seduction, or _any_ of Dick’s various forms of manipulation seeing as he _has_ no emotions (if he hadn’t already run background checks on Alfred Pennyworth _and_ hacked his health files, he’d be convinced the man is a robot) so Dick’s stuck with ‘Master Richard’ as his British-given title.

“I ain’t no puppy,” Jason snaps. Dick looks at him directly at that, licking his lips at what he sees.

Thomas, despite being infuriatingly straight (Dick _would_ know; he’s tried fucking his mentor a half a dozen or so times to try to get things out of him to no avail, and no man or woman can resist him normally), has impeccable taste in attractive orphans to foster and poorly parent. After all, he’d picked Dick, and that spoke of _fabulous_ taste.

Jason Todd’s taller than Dick by a good couple inches, lanky and gangly in ways that hints at past malnourishment. There’s still muscle, lean and compact lines along Jason’s arms (probably from outdoor labor and fighting, if the scars are any indication) and broad shoulders. His hair is dark, a shade darker than Dick’s own, and his eyes are an off blue that borders on green. Lazarus green, Dick thinks with narrowed eyes. Even though he’s only seen the pit twice, he remembers the color well. Bruce had brought him back, after all, when Jokester’s blundering had (for once) paid off and ended Dick’s life for a few moments.

Screw sharpening blades, this requires Dick’s _full_ attention.

“Oh? Are you a little bird, then? An owlet, perhaps?”

Thomas’s thinned lips twitch briefly, and his eyes (still stone-cold as always, Dick’s pretty sure he could orgasm and still have a corpse’s dead eyes) hold a flicker of amusement. Ah, so Jason’s _not_ Thomas’s new chew-toy. He’s Dick’s. Or some sort of test Dick will no-doubt pass by any means necessary, even if he hopes for the more _fun_ means – fucking and fighting, of course. Blood lust is a _great_ aphrodisiac, and he loves the way it colors the skin-tight perfection that is his Talon suit.

“My name is _Jason_ ,” Jason stresses, and Dick cocks his head.

Puppy is a fair nickname for Jason, he thinks. If you add ‘rabid’ or ‘feral’ or even ‘wild’ as a descriptor. His eyes hold a warning Dick’s eager to explore, and his hands (clenched into tight fists at his side) show the same signs of labor his arms do. His teeth are clenched, like he wants to snarl at Dick, and it’s so adorable Dick doesn’t feel that normal itch to slit Jason’s impertinent throat he would feel for anyone else. He hopes Thomas will let him play, Jason Todd seems like the type of toy he’ll need time to break and properly savor.

“Puppy it is.”

“Richard,” Thomas says, the faintest hint of interest in his voice, “don’t tease your new brother.”

“But _daddy_ ,” he pouts, dropping his voice to a more seductive tone, “it’s so fun to _tease_ , and I _always_ follow through.”

Jason’s reaction is pretty instant, a delicious red flush igniting his pale cheeks and a quick adjustment of his black pants. They’re tight enough for Dick to see his effect, and as a showman that’s always rewarding. He makes sure Jason catches his examination, dropping a quick wink that makes his new “brother” splutter.

“Think he’ll last longer than Timmy?” He asks Thomas, as though Jason’s not there. Timothy Wayne neé Drake had been their last attempt at expanding the family, and the kid hadn’t had the stomach for it. He’d gone to Oracle as an assistant after a few weeks of Owl-training, which he finds more fitting than fieldwork. Less family and more ally, but he’s a smart enough kid to know Thomas still monitors him. He has no living relatives, after all.

Wayne Enterprises had purchased Drake Industries after the “mysterious” disappearance of one Janet and Jack Drake after a trip to a coincidentally blown up Gotham warehouse. Dick does so enjoy explosions, and Thomas had been pleased enough with him to give the Drakes to him as practice.

“So long as you don’t drive him off.”

Does he want Dick to test Jason? Is that what this whole family reunion is about? It would make sense, Dick’s good at getting people to drop their guard unintentionally. Or maybe he just wants Dick to make Jason loyal through emotional attachment. Dick’s good at that too.

He can see the questions float in Jason’s eyes, and notices his left foot shift back, as if preparing to run. Jason’s smart enough not to voice any of the questions, however, perhaps sensing that Dick and Thomas aren’t the safe type of company.

“Where’d ya get him? He looks like a Narrows kid, but he has enough muscle for me to think he has training already.”

Thomas nods, looking moderately pleased at Dick’s deductions.

“He grew up in the Narrows, and he’s the thief we never apprehended who stole my tires a few years ago. At some point between then and now, he was killed during one of our conflicts with Jokester. Talia al Ghul resurrected him, and he only recently left Nanda Parbat and the League to search for me.”

“I’m right here,” Jason bites out, “don’t need to talk like I’m not, Owlman.”

Dick sends Thomas a look.

“You _told_ him?!”

Thomas sighs.

“Ra’s did.”

Of course. The man hands out their identities like candy to those he views as particularly trustworthy – for him, not for them. It’s how Talia had found Thomas the first time, after all, though Ra’s keeps their identities safe from the Crime Syndicate’s enemies and the “good guys” like Jokester out of respect for Owlman’s prowess.

Dick nods, striding across the room to Jason. His smirk is sin, and his eyes show his intent pretty damn clearly.

“Puppy wants to play with owls, huh?”

Jason swallows roughly at the proximity, but to his credit, he doesn’t back down.

“Maybe, if they’re as pretty as you.”

Dick licks his lips again, leaning in close enough to feel Jason’s breath on his cheek.

“You’re cute. I just might keep you.”

Jason’s cheeks burn again, warm to the touch, and Dick grabs him by the wrist and tugs. He comes without protest.

“I’ll return him later, Thommy!” he calls over his shoulder, satisfied as Jason matches his pace quite eagerly.

“In one piece, please. I don’t want to make Alfred clean blood out of the silk sheets again, or he’ll have both our heads.”

His mentor says this with a hint of humor, one of the few signs he has a half-assed personality outside of killing and being a man whore.

“No promises!”

Thomas’s eyes harden for a moment, flickering between Dick and Jason quick enough to almost miss. Dick can read Thomas better than anyone, so he doesn’t miss it.

‘ _Break him in,’_ the cold blues say.

Looks like his sheets might get bloody.

Foreplay can go many different directions, after all, and Dick likes to keep his options open. Especially with a new toy, one that might not break and bend as easily as the others. Thomas’s sexual promiscuity may be a smoke screen, but Dick’s isn’t.

He changes partners like one changes bed sheets. Most don’t last the night, and the few that do never last a week. His tastes are particular and change at a pace no partner can match, not even the more adventures heroes and villains. For all of Ultraman’s posturing, he’d turned out to be pretty damn boring in bed, and Pamela Isley had cared too much about the people Dick kills to last long as a sexual partner.

It’s a short walk down the hall to his room, and the red silk sheets beckon beautifully from his bed. God bless Alfred, even if the old butler gives off pod-person vibes. Jason falls on his bed with a hard shove, splaying out naturally, like he belongs there.

“How do you like it, puppy?” Jason’s eyes follow him, watching Dick circle the bed like a lion circles prey. “Do you like it hard? Soft?”

Dick trails a finger along Jason’s shoulders, delighting in the small shudder the younger’s body gives.

“Do you like it slow? _Painfully_ slow? Slow enough for you to go mad with need?”

Dick can feel his lips curl, and before Jason has a chance to blink those wide Lazarus-green-mixed-with-blue eyes, he pulls a blade from his sheath and traces it down the cotton t-shirt. Dick presses it down enough to sting, so Jason will feel the blade through his shirt.

Jason shivers, head thrown back as the metal teases his pale throat, unflinching as it trails right over the carotid artery. Dick cocks his head curiously, pressing the blade in a bit more firmly, like a warning. Red blooms under it, small crimson beads gathering to spill down Jason’s neck like a waterfall. His puppy stays still, as though Dick couldn’t have him dead in minutes. It feels too much like trust, and trust is…it’s a concept for the weak and the stupid, and Dick is neither. He trusts no one.

“Do you trust me?” Dick asks.

Jason takes a deep breath, a bit shaky, putting a hand on top of Dick’s.

“Not for a damn second.”

His eyes are like steel, and Dick, for some stupid reason, believes him. He replaces the dagger with his mouth, biting and sucking until he tastes blood on his lower lip. He licks it off with a quick dart of his tongue, patting Jason’s head mockingly.

“Good boy. Now, strip.”

Jason kicks his combat boots off the bed and onto the floor, throwing his cotton tee on top after Dick pulls away. Dick cuts the jeans off when Jason takes too long to wriggle out of them, throwing the two halves aside for Alfie to clean later.

“Finally,” Dick mutters, fisting a hand in Jason’s hair and tugging his mouth to Dick’s.

He can tell Jason’s inexperienced from the first shy brush, no more than a peck with a virgin’s idea of tongue. It’s adorable, truly – Dick does so _love_ new toys that are _only_ his – but frustrating too. He sets the blade down and tilts his head, so his nose doesn’t bump into Jason’s. He slows down and tugs lightly on Jason’s curly hair, letting out a pleased hum when Jason copies his movements. Jason’s a fast learner, opening beautiful when Dick prods, soft and pliant beneath him. He squirms and sighs and hums into Dick’s mouth, more responsive than most partners Dick’s experienced. It’s pleasing; he always likes an active participant in any activity. Especially this.

He pulls away and Jason’s already gasping, rosy-cheeked and star-eyed as Dick licks a trail down his neck, delighting in the salty taste of sweat. His finger trace over the bruise left on Jason’s neck, delighting in the shiver Jason gives again. He looks deliciously vulnerable, naked in Dick’s silk sheets while Dick hasn’t even taken off his shoes, and it’s only improved by the countless scars woven into his pale skin. Silver-lines telling stories of fights Jason lost, or the mistakes he’s made.

There’s a large y-incision bisecting Jason’s chest and abdomen that distracts Dick momentarily, and he straddles Jason’s thighs to get a better look, making him lay flat under Dick’s explorations. He traces the scar with interest, feeling the uneven seams of jagged skin curve under his touch.

“This from when you died?” he whispers in Jason’s ear.

Jason swallows roughly, nodding. His eyes are all repressed heat, poorly concealed as Dick presses a kiss to the center point of the scar. He likes this, Dick can tell.

Dick’s always loved scars, because for all his deceptive facetiousness and lethally light-hearted smiles, for all his facades and personas, he hates lies (liars always do, don’t they?). Scars tell stories their owners won’t, an honesty most can’t afford, especially Thomas. Dick’s loved scars for as long as he’s had them, and the only thing he loves more than _having_ them or _seeing_ them is _giving_ them, and Jason’s body seems the perfect canvas for his artistry.

Dick imagines cutting him open, dragging the blade down the twisted slants of scarred stitching holding in the fun stuffing of Jason’s insides. He imagines painting Jason’s beautifully pale landscape crimson red, like an apocalyptic sunset. Burning, cutting, permanent. He likes leaving a mark, a little something for his partners to remember him by, but Jason seems durable yet fragile. Dick needs time, he can save the scars for later. It’s more delicious if it’s willing, even if he’ll do it regardless.

 _‘Patience, Grayson,’_ he thinks, leaving a few more open-mouthed kisses along lines of scarred skin. ‘ _Good things come to those who wait_.’

Jason’s hands are timid as they reach for Dick’s hair, gently running silky-smooth strands between his fingers with a look of contentment. It’s domestic-y, something a _lover_ would do. And that, that just won’t do.

Dick Grayson doesn’t have lovers, he has toys, and no matter how pretty or cute the toy, it’s always _just_ a toy. Time to teach his puppy the rules.

Dick bites down on Jason’s nipple and is rewarded with a loud yelp, the hips beneath him bucking up as Jason glares. Dick smiles lazily, resting his chin on top of Jason’s chest, drawing swirls on Jason’s skin.

“What the _fuck_ , Richard?!”

It’s more irritated than pained, curiosity peeking through in the form of Jason’s hardening cock. Hmm. Dick does love a masochist in the making, makes the screams more enjoyable. It’s definitely something he’ll have to examine in greater detail later.

“I’m going to fuck you, Jason, not make love.” And he cocks his head, smirking up at Jason. “Didn’t your mommy ever teach you bedside manners?”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Jason hisses, eyes glowing ominously. “ _Don’t you dare_.”

A weak point. Dick files ‘ _mommy issues’_ in his mental folder of information to later use on Jason Todd, possibly as manipulation material. Eh, he’ll plot later in Thomas’s fancy spinning chair. Maybe Alfie will let him sneak some of that expensive bourbon wasting away in Thomas’s liquor cabinet, and he can borrow one of Selina’s strays. Really get that plotting villain vibe going for him…

“It’s okay, puppy,” Dick purrs, kissing Jason’s mouth sweetly until his shoulders relax and his body loses some of that unnecessary tension. “Big brother’s here to show you now.”

He rolls off Jason and pulls out his toy box from under the bed, thick chords of ropes scratchy and itching against his skin. It’s not his nice set of chains, or the silk set he sometimes uses, but they’ll do. His silk set is still covered in the blood of his last playmate, after all. Jason blinks at him, frowning at the ropes, but lets Dick tie the rope around his right hand. He loops it around Jason’s wrist carefully, feeling Jason’s pulse dance with every light scrape of the material as Dick ties it. He anchors it next, looping it around his bedpost before tying the rope around Jason’s other wrist and ankles and the other three bed posts.

Dick tugs on the rope and is satisfied when it remains taut and resistive. Jason can’t move his arms, and his legs only have the smallest room for movement, which his puppy notices right off the bat. Jason’s cheeks redden, flushing down to his chest as Dick takes in his exposure. He hums, feeling as though something is missing from his pretty picture, deliciously his and pale and painfully hard as Dick stares.

Then it hits him.

His puppy is missing a collar.

“Dick?” Jason calls as Dick steps away, but Dick waves him off, grinning. Jason sounds nervous, adorably so, especially considering he’s definitely killed a man or two in his time with Ra’s. But nudity seems to scare him, _vulnerability_ scares him. It’s delectable, the best treat Thomas could give Dick.

Fragility in a dangerous package… Dick’s a sucker for making the strongest men break at his feet.

The collar’s double looped and leather, with a small silver buckle on the smaller loop to tighten it. ‘ _Property of Dick Grayson’_ marks it, in a swoopy silver stitching Dick had paid double for. It’s a warning and a promise, one he hopes Jason will see. He wraps the thicker band around Jason’s throat first, feeling his cock stir in his pants as the second band tightens, three holes tight, and Dick admires his handiwork. His mark, tight around Jason’s gorgeously scarred throat, a stark contrast to any other mark Jason carries… He likes it. He likes it a lot.

“You’re mine now,” He whispers, leaning into the crook of Jason’s neck and reaching one hand down to stroke Jason’s cock. “No take backsies.”

Jason groans, so Dick delves into the warmth of Jason’s mouth with an eager tongue. He thumbs over Jason’s slit lightly, spreading precome along the throbbing length as he strokes. It’s warm and wet in his palm, and he twists and adjusts as he swallows every delicious noise Jason makes, every breathy sigh or low moan his new “brother” can’t hold back.

“So good for me, aren’t you?”

Jason’s the picture of debauchery beneath him, wet lips puffy from Dick’s ministrations, a thin line of blood leaking down the corner of his mouth from the more enthusiastic kisses. Jason teases his lower lip between his teeth, shivering from something other than a chill in the air. Dick’s grip on Jason’s cock tightens, smile more warning than indulgence as Jason’s eyes squeeze tight.

“Aren’t you?” he repeats evenly. Dick’s appeased by the small nod Jason gives, though he’d prefer a verbal confirmation. ‘ _Baby steps,’_ he reminds himself, or the toy will break before its time.

A quiet “ _please_ ” breaks the silence between them, more a release than a declaration, a prayer more than a plea. Dick smirks to himself, moving Jason’s chin so he’s forced to watch. His strokes slow, almost lazy as his fingers slide up and down.

“You want this?”

“ _More_ ,” in that same low, desperate tone. His puppy squirms beneath him, still flushing so beautifully.

Dick slides down Jason’s body, grabbing the knife from where it had fallen and pressing a wet kiss to Jason’s inner thigh.

“Here?” he asks.

Jason looks down at him with something he doesn’t understand in Jason’s eyes, nodding after a beat.

Dick takes Jason down in one swallow, damn near gagging as it hits the back of his throat. It’s longer than his but thinner too, filling up his mouth pleasantly. Jason’s musky scent is at his nose, thick and overwhelming, and Dick reaches a hand up to fondle Jason’s balls. Jason’s hands struggle against the bonds, pulling furiously, cursing as Dick moves up and down Jason’s cock, tongue trailing along the vein on the underside.

Jason groans, eyes fluttering shut as he lifts his head up to face the canopy top of the bed. It feels like power, the salty taste of a man with this many scars in his mouth, the way he’s falling apart under Dick’s ministrations, Dick’s commands. It feels good, familiar, but he can feel Jason on the verge of coming when he fists the cock in his hand, scraping his teeth across the top light enough to sting so right. He can feel Jason about to come, so he pulls off and presses another wet kiss to Jason’s inner thigh, blade in hand.

He wants to paint this canvas, wants to add a permanent mark to this masterpiece. Jason’s silent as Dick presses the tip of the blade against his skin, unmoving as the blade breaks skin. Their eyes lock as he drags the blade across, leaking a sharp line of crimson all over his pretty landscape. Jason doesn’t flinch when Dick drags the blade down in another sharp line, shaking slightly when the blade’s tossed aside. Jason’s still hard, bound to his bed, and Dick never leaves a partner unsatisfied.

Dick moves up Jason’s body, lining his groin against Jason’s with a small sigh. His breath ghosts over Jason’s cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“This?”

“ _Yes…”_

Dick rocks against Jason, slow and steady as his puppy squirms again, damn near panting for Dick.

“Touch me,” Jason begs, but Dick shakes his head.

“You want me to touch you, you can get off on this first. That’s your punishment, Jay.”

Sex is, in Dick’s well-learned opinion, a lot like torture. It’s not about the reprieve, nor the climax, it’s about the journey. It’s about drawing out the smallest noises and prodding until they’re loud, about teasing every response until the person’s overwhelmed with it. It’s about over stimulation, about play, and the build-up is always the best part. The release bores him, just like getting the answer isn’t half as fun as pulling it out from his captive. There’s not a whole lot to do afterwards, it’s only good so long as it lasts. And he does have so much _fun_ making it last.

Jason groans, muttering a few choice curse words under his breath that Dick is magnanimous enough to pretend not to hear. Jason moves under him, matching Dick’s rhythm perfectly. His cock is weeping from Dick’s earlier teasing, rock-hard against Dick’s uniformed pants as Jason bucks and shudders and pants.

It only takes a few frantic movements, a few desperate thrusts, and fabric dragging along skin with Dick’s teeth teasing Jason’s ear before his puppy comes. Pupils blown wide and eyes a dark green as he shudders, covering them both in his release.

“Dick—” he says, but Dick cuts him off, slipping his rope-burned wrists and ankles (looks like he’d struggled more than Dick had noticed) free of their binds and pulling Jason in for another brutal kiss.

Teeth clacking, blood-pounding, earth-shattering, lip-bitingly good, and painful, and right. Dick rewards him with feather-light touches, fingers dancing across the constellation of scars on Jason with renewed enthusiasm.

Dick’s fucked a lot of men and a lot of women, but Jason’s something different. Something _new_ and _exciting_ , beyond the pretty eyes and crooked nose.

When Jason’s tentative hands reach up to his suit’s seams, searching for the zipper, Dick allows it. Inch by inch his golden-silver skin is revealed, a canvas made by others and held together by sheer stubbornness and spite. He’s been ripped apart and put back together hundreds of times – _thousands_ of different ways – and his body shows those marks. An honesty he doesn’t normally allow, one Thomas wishes him to cover up, but he’s always refused.

For all his saccharine grins and doe eyes, for all his seemingly innocent beauty and put-on idiocy, Dick Grayson is a warrior, a fighter. He’s survived a hell of a lot more than most rich boys, he’s been hurt a hell of a lot more than most pretty faces. He wants to look the threat he is, even if he’s only allowed that luxury in nudity.

Jason’s eyes widen as he takes in the scars – healed-over bullet holes, and stab wounds; some old and silvered with age, some fresh and an angry red against his tan skin – but wisely doesn’t comment. His lips are soft on Dick’s shoulder – distracting – as the suit falls to Dick’s waist. He pulls a knife from the belt and set it next to them (better safe than sorry), shrugging off the suit until he’s left every bit as bare as Jason. There’d be a vulnerability in it – a weakness in it – if Dick were any less confident in himself, if he hadn’t mastered his body in every way possible and transformed it into a lethal weapon. To fight with blades, you must treat them like an extension of yourself, and Dick’s self is pretty damn lethal with or without fancy knives.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Jason murmurs in awe, almost accidentally. His smile is soft, intoxicating in its dimpled sweetness as he stares at Dick. “Gorgeous…”

Almost against his will, Dick feels a flutter of warmth in his gut. It means nothing, of course, he always likes being appreciated for how amazingly gorgeous and talented he is. He swoons every time President Wilson is close enough to lecture him on the unnecessary violence and “wasted” energies of his sociopathic endeavors, after all.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he snarks, clamping down on the heat he can almost feel rise in his cheeks. _Almost._ His control is ironclad, and he’s not pathetic enough to blush over compliments during sex.

“Can I?”

“Only if you’re in it,” Dick purrs, “a nice canvas for my wall, perhaps. Quite the picture…not sure my other toys would be able to compare.”

Jason frowns, freckles crinkling as his nose scrunches adorably. His eyes narrow on the silk sheets like they’ve done something to personally insult him.

“I’m not your _toy_.”

Aw, his puppy’s getting jealous. Quite adorable, really.

A playful grin spreads across his lips.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. You are _mine_ though, Jason. Don’t forget…” he leans close enough for their lips to be a breath apart, Jason’s part in greeting… “Being mine doesn’t mean I’m yours.”

He snaps his teeth in warning, giggling a little when Jason flinches back, looking almost hurt. Ah virgins, so _emotional_ …or maybe it’s just a Jason Todd thing. Dick doesn’t quite know, but he’s eager to learn.

“Good _boy_ ,” he praises. “Now, _roll over._ ”

He doesn’t give Jason any warning before flipping him over, running his hands over his ass and thighs reverently, watching blood run down Jason’s leg from the ‘ _T’_ carved in his flesh. It spills onto the silk sheets, darkening them like a water spill on cotton. He leans over Jason’s body to pull some coconut lube out of his nightstand, squeezing a generous portion into his hands and exhaling as the fruity scent reaches him. He does love his fruity lube, worth every penny.

Jason gives a low moan as Dick’s slick finger slips in, curling as he pumps it in and out. Jason’s tight and warm, the kind of tight that hentai porn moans about endlessly. It’s going to be a difficult fit – Dick’s attitude and name aren’t compensating for _anything_ – but it’ll be worth it, worth every agonizing second. He’ll make it work for his little masochist-in-training.

“That feels…weird…” Jason says. Dick shushes him.

“It’ll feel better in a second.”

His second finger meets resistance, Jason squirming and flushed as Dick holds him still, and hisses “ _relax_ ” in his ear. A nip on his shoulder has him still, and Dick adds a bit more lube before slipping back in. He tries curling his fingers a bit more, and Jason’s body loses all tension, completely pliable.

“ _Fuck_ …”

“Don’t silence yourself Jay. I like hearing you.”

“ _Goddammit…”_

Jason keens as Dick scissors him open, soft, and he lifts his head to look at Dick as he bites back another groan. It’s intimate, staring into someone’s eyes when they’re vulnerable like this. Eye contact is something Dick weaponizes, normally, but this isn’t about manipulation. It’s not in his control, so he breaks contact first. They say the eyes are windows to the soul, and Jason’s are a blazing green, but Dick’s? He has no soul. Looking in that kind of heat stings for a reason Dick refuses to decipher.

That’s as much prep as he’s doing, Dick decides; half dizzy with the look in Jason’s eyes, and the way his mouth and skin carry Dick’s marks. He’s ready to ruin Jason for anyone else. He’s the first, after all.

Might as well set the standard high.

“Up,” Dick whispers, hands on Jason’s abs and pulling, lifting. “On your knees and forearms, puppy.”

Doggystyle. It’s a fitting position to break his new toy in.

Dick shoves in without much preamble, one hand fisted in Jason’s hair and one draped over his shoulder waving near his throat. It feels good, _better_ than good. It feels like sin, like it’s something Dick _should_ be doing, hot and wet and _so fucking satisfying_. God he’s missed this. He’s gone without sex for two whole days because Thomas Wayne the cock block wouldn’t let him fuck the targets before killing them (personally, Dick thinks it’s more efficient in lowering their guard, but Thommy had rambled on and on about _DNA_ evidence and _leaving proof_ and blah blah blah).

Dick breathes out, bottoming out inside Jason to find a better angle. The few noises that escape Jason increase, and Dick can tell he’s on the right path. Another quick adjustment and Jason’s cursing under his breath – fingers fisted in the sheets and lips an inviting red. Dick pulls on Jason’s hair sharply, pleased by the whine his puppy lets loose and the way he turns to Dick without a word. He’s learning, honestly, Dick’s so proud. A few shallow thrusts and Dick licks Jason’s mouth open, swallowing the metallic taste right from his lips and something smokey that must be cigarettes. He doesn’t know how he missed it before, Thomas would punish him severely if he knew (in a tragically not-kinky way, something boring like “no murder for a month” or community service with real children, which, _ewwwww_ ).

Jason breaks away to pant, soaked with sweat and practically glowing in that debauched, freshly fucked way. Dick thrusts deeper, nearly pulling out entirely before slamming back in hard enough for Jason’s arms to shake. The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room, and Dick can smell his cinnamon cologne on Jason’s skin, can taste Jason on his tongue…

“You close?” Dick murmurs, feeling the telltale shudders as Jason’s inner muscles flex. Jason breathes out, eyes wide and nuclear as Dick stares. They share a breath, a moment of silence, then Jason nods.

“Good,” Dick says, biting another mark into the junction of Jason’s neck and shoulder. “Come with me, when I say.”

Another nod, which Dick rewards with a chaste kiss. Jason thrusts back against Dick, matching his slowed pace, languid and simmering with heat. Dick sucks in a breath, feeling that prick of warning, feeling Jason tense around him, clamping down on his cock like a goddamn glove.

“Three,” he starts, tugging on Jason’s hair lightly, nails clawing across Jason’s chest. Jason’s breaths are shallow, short quick bursts of air through rosy cheeks. His hands tighten into fists in the sheets once more.

“Two.”

Jason’s panting more than breathing, skin shimmering with a light sheen of sweat as Dick fucks him, thrusting right at his sweet spot.

“You with me?” in his ear. Jason’s throats exposed under his mouth, a whining, incoherent mess.

‘ _I’ll take that as a yes.’_

“ **Come** ,” Dick commands, and Jason does.

Thick ropes of come paint the silk sheets, Jason’s crying, “Dick, Dick, _Dick_ ,” under his breath like a prayer with his heart pounding loud like the stamping of troops of soldiers going to war, like the sound of two corpses falling to the ground during a show.

Dick comes with him, _in him_ , slack against Jason’s back as he tries to remember how to breathe, think, feel, _exist_. Shaking, thundering, stupidly _consumed_ by his name off a pair of bloody lips, by Lazarus eyes and a soft mouth.

Jason slumps beneath him, a few tears leaking from his eyes, and Dick stares. He takes a breath, settling his heart to its normal pace, and it’s quiet. Silent. Uncomfortably so. It’s never quiet after the first round, not when there’s banter or screams or shaky breathing or dirty talk or a gurgling throat…

Dick pulls his softened cock from Jason with a sigh, feeling cold at the loss of contact and berating himself for it. He doesn’t _feel_ cold, and if he does, he doesn’t admit it. Admittance is weakness, and weakness is for the throats he cuts without hesitation. Weakness is for the idiots who wander late at night, thinking themselves immortal. Weakness is for people who care, who _feel_ , and Dick doesn’t care or feel. Not anymore.

It’s been trained out of him.

Still, he lifts Jason’s head up and slides a pillow under it, draping the silk sheets (looks like some blood had gotten on his sheets, and even if Alfred kills him it is totally worth it) across his naked body. Normally, he doesn’t let anyone sleep in his bed, but this is different. It’s poor bedside manner to fuck someone unconscious and then kick them out the door, and Dick has _excellent_ bedside manner.

Another sigh and he’s laying next to Jason, fingers outstretched towards him in the space between them. Jason looks soft like this. Younger than however old he really is. His eyelashes are long and thick, casting shadows on his cheeks and hiding his hauntingly bright eyes. His mouth is slack, lips puffy and red as he breathes out little content sighs. Dick shouldn’t still want him. Dick shouldn’t want to brush the white streak of hair off his forehead and play with it, but he does. And… (he shouldn’t be talking himself into this, _no_ , _stop_ …) it’s not like his impulse control is any good. It’s not like he’s ever been good at anything but killing. It’s not like he’s ever cared for rules before.

He brushes the bangs off Jason’s sweaty forehead gently, taking care not to wake him up. He looks wrecked as Dick huddles closer, pressing his body against Jason’s. He looks mauled and owned, and some part of that feeds into Dick’s pride, his maintained reputation between the sheets and effect on the general populace, but some part feeds into something _different_. Something softer. Something dangerous.

Closer still and he traces the bite marks and bruises, finds the places where he broke skin and tasted blood and places he didn’t. The collar calls Dick’s attention, striking against his puppy’s skin. He looks good in it. He looks _right_ in it. Dick’s fingers wander beneath the sheets, tracing the lines he’d carved into Jason’s inner thigh, lightly caressing the sure-to-scar ‘ _T’_ with a measure of care. It feels like possession, like desire, but Dick tells himself it’s ownership, _power_.

That’s what this is all about, what _everything_ he does is about. Power. Taking it. Making it. _Controlling it_. He plays dirty, does whatever it takes to get the upper hand even if he has to fuck it out of people. He has no shame, no guilt, no _fear_.

The perfect weapon. The perfect _soldier_ …

If he weren’t so insolent and contrary for the fun of it.

Dick hazards a glance at Jason’s face, still soft with unconsciousness, breaths even and careful as his chest rises and falls.

No one would know. If he took a moment for himself, here. No one would find out either because Jason would never know. Dick could pretend with someone else… He could _let_ himself…

Shit impulse control, it’s something Thomas and Alfred have always tried to cure him of and failed.

Dick lays his head on Jason’s chest so he can hear every exhaled sigh from Jason’s mouth, so he can hear every comforting _thump, thump_ of Jason’s heart, throwing a leg over Jason’s and draping himself across as gently as he can. There’s a moment where he thinks Jason’s going to wake, where Jason’s chest rises and shudders as it falls, but the pulse beneath him is steady and even, not a skip in place. He scoots closer, pulling Jason’s arm up around him and wrapping his fingers around Jason’s bicep in a loose grip.

Dick takes a breath and closes his eyes, feeling the warm body surround him and pretends it loves him. Pretends it is capable of loving him, or that Jason ever would. Dick has him he knows, he’s in Jason’s system like poison and he _likes it_ that way, but the thing about poison is it runs out. It’s either processed, or it kills. There’s no lingering, no long-term. Dick is poison, and he has no future with anyone. He owns people, ruins them inside and out, and then they leave. They’ll always leave if he doesn’t shove them out first, so he doesn’t let himself care.

His claws are in Jason, tight around his heart and his desire, and Jason will come back… But it’s only temporary. It’s _always_ temporary.

But tonight…tonight there’re no witnesses, no masks. Tonight, he’ll pretend Jason loves him, and that the monster in Dick Grayson’s walking funeral is capable of love. Tonight, he’ll pretend he has a lover that wants to stay, and that he’s capable of wanting someone to stay. Tonight, he’ll pretend he can be warm when he’s always cold and he’ll pretend he can still feel enough to cry.

He can just kiss tomorrow goodbye for now, so long as he’s gone before Jason wakes.


End file.
